


Switched!

by Mistflyer1102



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), Real Person Fiction, Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Crack, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-13
Updated: 2013-09-28
Packaged: 2017-12-26 10:40:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/964986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistflyer1102/pseuds/Mistflyer1102
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two men are minding their own business (in the same café, within thirty minutes of each other), and it takes one error to make things a little more complicated than they really have to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was starting to turn into one of those days.

And it wasn’t even 0900 yet.

“Please inform the boss that I can’t make the budget meeting this afternoon and he needs to reschedule since I have to be hacking into the vault in Bermuda to make it easier for Trevelyan… yes, I know that he scheduled it then on purpose so he wouldn’t have to look at our budget numbers for the quarter, but this is honestly getting rather ridiculous,” Q complained as he examined the café menu from a safe corner; the last time he was at this place, he’d nearly gotten crushed by the morning rush hour.  “And tell James, _when_ he gets there, that if he so much as _thinks_ about touching my laptop again… yes, he’s getting there before me, don’t worry Riley, stranger things have happened.”

He tried to focus on R’s replies but found that the lack of sleep and overall frustration with the morning was impeding his ability to pay attention.  “Riley,” he finally interrupted, “Please finish telling me when I come in, all right? I’m going to text Thomas and ask him to pick me up; James was still sleeping like the dead this morning when I got up… no, that is not too much information.  That was your brain assuming what we got up to last night that left James exhausted when you know as well as I do that he came back from Vancouver late last night.”

R’s panicked apologies went in one ear and out the other as Q studied the menu, already calculating how long he’d have to wait if he texted 008 now and asked for a ride.  Then R said something that made Q do a double take.

“Sorry, can you repeat that last bit?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“ _M sent a memo this morning saying that there’s going to be filming today at Heathrow, you know, for that movie.  He wants us to stay away from the sets.”_

 _Fuck_.

Q had forgotten about that.  In a last-ditch attempt to shake James’ persistent opponents who tended to strike even weeks after the mission completion, M—not Mallory but his predecessor—had authorized the use of several case files to become action films.  The idea was to make it as though James Bond was nothing more than a fictional character, so whenever 007 felt it necessary to introduce himself to his captors, they would assume he got the name from a movie.  Q saw the first two _after_ he joined MI6—he’d been busy with school when they came out, and he adamantly refused to watch _Skyfall_ given that it was more or less one huge painful reminder of what he’d done.  James seemed to have an indifferent opinion to the whole matter, although he did take advantage of the ‘fiction’ aspect when bored and trolled the media to his heart’s content (always careful to do so in another country, wherever his actor, Daniel Craig, was _not_ ).

“Did that memo go out to the entirety of MI6, or just Q-Branch?” Q asked, finally sitting down at the café table so he could pull out his other phone and tap out a quick text to 008 to come pick him up.

“ _Just Q-Branch. I think he’s still mad at us for editing the script two weeks ago.”_

“Well, if he just worked with me on the budget reports, I wouldn’t feel the compulsive need to edit the scenes he appears in.  They rewrote those scenes anyway, I checked,” Q muttered, sending the text.  “Now I’m going to hang up, I need my tea if you want me to be functional today but I still need to order it.” 

“ _Sure you don’t want to make the tea here?  We restocked yesterday.”_

“James wants his usual coffee-mocha-sugar combination, or that one drink that only one café serves.  I figured I might as well get something too since I’m already here,” Q said, getting up and slipping into line.  “Do you want something?”

“ _No thanks, I’ve got my hot chocolate and coffee combo over here.”_

Q made a face.  “I know I don’t usually drink coffee, but that sounds gross.”

“ _I gathered that from the ‘I don’t usually drink coffee’ part.”_

Q sighed.  R had to have picked up the snark from someone, and it was most likely James.  “I’ll talk to you later,” he said before hanging up.  His other phone buzzed, and he glanced at it to find that it was a confirmation from 008 as well as a warning about a delay due to morning traffic.  The other double-oh had been going stir-crazy for the last few months since Incident #128 in Medical, having been grounded indefinitely as punishment, so any mission, even just escort duty, was gladly welcomed.

O’Reilly always did follow through on his threats.  Q was just glad he and O’Reilly were friends; it made life for the two significantly easier in different ways.

After almost twenty minutes of waiting, he was _finally_ second in line.  He was scrolling through his schedule for the day when he felt a hand land on his shoulder. 

“Mr. Whishaw?”

“Wha-Who?” he said, turning around in confusion.  To his surprise, it was an unfamiliar woman who was wearing a uniform that one might find on a security officer.  “I’m sorry, but who-”

“Chloe here, found him,” the woman said into a radio, her distinctive American accent surprising him. Q stared at her as she listened to something on the other end, then shook his head and turned back around.

Only to yelp when Chloe pulled on his shoulder, her grip tightening as she _dragged_ him out backwards out of the café.  Q stumbled, unwilling to bring any harm to his laptop as he tried to turn around so he wouldn’t have to walk backwards.  Shaking Chloe’s hand off (well, trying to, she immediately put her hand back on his shoulder as though to keep him from bolting), he stopped on the sidewalk the second he saw the black vehicle.  “Oh no, I am _not_ -”

“Mr. Whishaw, we need to get to Heathrow now, we’re on a bit of a tight schedule as it is,” Chloe interrupted, giving Q a glare that could give Moneypenny’s a run for its money.  “And I thought Mr. Mendes told you not to wander around London in costume while we’re still working.”

Q stared at her. “Costume?” he repeated, bewildered as she herded him toward the waiting car.  He wanted to point out that no, he wasn’t wearing a bloody costume and yes, he was well aware that his outfit didn’t constitute as ‘professional’ in many circles, but no one complained since he got his job done.  Also, even if this weren’t a blatant kidnapping attempt, he wouldn’t go within _meters_ of Heathrow, since it was an airport with _planes_.  Besides, M didn’t want him near there since there was going to be filming of-

_Oh.  Oh, shit._

“Wait, you don’t understand. I’m not Ben Whishaw, I’m just his doppelganger,” Q said, panicking as he realized what was going on.  Easily ducking underneath a security guard’s attempt at caging him in, he tried to make a break for freedom right as someone caught his shoulder again.  “No, no, no, no I don’t know a bloody thing about acting…” He skidded slightly on the wet pavement, which gave the other man the chance to snatch him around the waist and half-drag, half-carry him back to the car.  Q tried to fight back, even though pedestrians were starting to stare, but in the end, could not fight the man off.  He was thus stuffed, while protesting and sputtering in indignation, into the car.  Chloe got into the driver’s seat, and promptly drove away in the direction of the airport.

~*~

Daniel Craig adjusted his jacket as he listened to Mendes describing the airplane scenes, something that involved him tricking Ben’s character into getting onboard since ‘Q’ had a fear of flying, but was needed to be onsite at the destination.  The two of them were out on the tarmac at Heathrow, with both a makeshift cabin for the interior scenes, and a private jet for the exterior scenes.  Small groups of crew were checking their respective equipment for the final time, Ralph Fiennes and Naomie Harris were both sitting nearby, Naomie getting the last touch ups for her makeup.  The only person missing was Ben Whishaw, who had left earlier that morning with a member of the crew, to grab a quick breakfast nearby.  It had taken the teams a couple hours to locate Whishaw, but not the other man.

“And don’t worry, I’ve been assured that this is the updated version of the script,” Mendes said, tapping the packet in Daniel’s hand as the latter studied the lines.  “Still haven’t found the bloody idiots who rewrote all of Fiennes’ lines though,” he added, looking up when there was the sound of a car engine approaching.  “About bloody time,” he muttered as the car pulled up near where Fiennes and Harris were waiting.  “The one time we have a delay and we’re missing an actor.”

“No, he’s here,” Daniel said, nodding toward the approaching vehicle; he could see Chloe, head of the security staff, in the driver’s seat.  “Do you want to do one last rehearsal and then start filming?”

“Yes, when Chloe called to confirm she had him, she said he was acting a little odd.  Nervous even.  Apparently he keeps insisting he isn’t ‘Ben Whishaw’,” Mendes said, frowning when the back doors opened and two guards got out, but Whishaw didn’t. “I know I told him he’d have to act nervous about flying, but this takes it a little far.  He might be facing consequences if he doesn’t knock it off,” he said finally.

Daniel turned in time to see a guard reach into the car and visibly strain while trying to pull something—some _one_ —out of the backseat. 

_Crash!_

Everyone turned at that point to find Ben clambering off the guard in a bid for the passenger door, but the guard was faster, catching him around the waist and dragged him back to the ground.  Chloe grimaced when she spotted the two of them, but stepped away when Whishaw managed to free himself, leaving the guard mostly prone on the ground.  Daniel raised an eyebrow when he saw that Ben was indeed in full costume, down to the computer bag.  The other man brushed himself off and pulled out a mobile, sending several texts before stuffing the phone away and looking around, looking rather lost, anxious and confused.   

“All right.  Places!” Mendes shouted, and everyone started moving.

Instead of immediately joining Fiennes and Harris, Daniel walked over and tapped Whishaw on the shoulder.  “Are you all right?” he asked quietly, frowning when Ben looked up at him.  The man looked like he hadn’t slept in days, and Daniel could feel Ben’s shoulder through the layers of coat and cardigan.

Ben finally nodded.  “As well as I can be, given the circumstances,” he said, pinching the bridge of his nose tiredly. 

“Have you been eating and sleeping enough?” Daniel asked, well aware that Ben could be starting to feel the stress that came from the James Bond films.

To his surprise, Ben scowled.  “Oh, don’t _you_ start too,” he muttered, rubbing his forehead.  He sighed, and then said, “Do you have a copy of the script I can check over?”

“Yes, updated version.  Sam’s still looking for the hackers that edited it two weeks ago, but no luck,” Daniel said, handing the script over before herding Ben in the general direction of the others.

“Trust me when I say they won’t be a problem again,” Ben muttered underneath his breath as he studied the open page, somehow managing to not bump into anything as he walked.  He sighed, and then said, “Santorini?  Definitely not my proudest trip… what the hell?”  He glanced at Daniel and said, “Who is in charge of the gadgets for this movie?”

Daniel blinked, taken aback a bit from Ben’s straightforwardness.  Before he could question it thought, Mendes suddenly appeared.

“Something wrong?” he asked, glancing warily at Ben.

“Yes.  You mention the use of these two gadgets?” Ben said, turning to face Mendes.  “I looked through the explanation of how to bloody well use them, and while I understand that something was redacted for secrecy purposes, the explanations are horribly inaccurate.  If the-”

Daniel glanced at Mendes, who looked both angry and interested as Ben began talking faster, giving the rundown for the improved Walther PPK with encoded palm-print.  While Daniel understood the need to get in character, it was also likely that Ben was taking it a step too far.

_Honk, honk!_

Ben promptly shut up when a black vehicle with flashing blue and red lights pulled up to the sets on the tarmac, easily avoiding where Fiennes and Harris were doing last minute review.  The car came to a smooth stop near the three of them, lights still flashing, and Ben looked unusually relieved for some reason.

The driver and passenger stepped out first, a man and woman respectively.  The man looked extremely sheepish as he started walking towards the three of them while the woman turned to open the door behind her seat.  “Mr. Mendes, Thomas Mulligan of Secret Intelligence Services,” he said, edging away from ‘Ben’ as he joined the three of them.

“Is there a problem?” Mendes asked, frowning.

“Yeah… I think you have _our_ techie while we took yours by accident this morning,” Mulligan said, nodding in the direction of the car.  Daniel did a double take; Ben was talking with the woman, and Michael, the missing crewmember, was checking his watch.  Now that Daniel could see them both, he could easily see where Chloe made her mistake.  Mulligan meanwhile then turned to ‘Ben’ and carefully said, “Mr. Winfield… we have copious amounts of caffeine, your partner, and a rescheduled budget meeting back at headquarters for you.” 

“It’s going to take a lot more than _that_ to appease me, they almost put me on a bloody plane again,” Winfield said, straightening his parka.  “Is he laughing?” he demanded

Mulligan started to shake his head, seemed to think better of it, and nodded.  “The only thing that keeps him from getting full entertainment is that he didn’t get that sugar concoction he always downs after coming home,” he said, glancing warily back at where Ben was talking to Fiennes.  Shuddering, he said, “It’s unnerving to here, honestly.”

“Why’s that?” Daniel asked, catching the other’s attention.  While no names other than ‘Winfield’ had been mentioned, he could reasonably follow along regardless.  Such as the fact that Winfield had a partner waiting his return, and might have had something to do with the fact that Mulligan’s superiors discovered the switch sooner.  Judging from Ben’s grinning expression though, he doubted anything actually happened.

Sighing, Mulligan said, “Well, you’ve nailed down the appearances all right, it’s like seeing doubles of my coworkers in broad daylight.”  He looked at Winfield, and said, “At least you didn’t get on the plane yet.  What mission is this?”

“Santorini.  Of all the missions our boss could have chosen, it had to be Santorini,” Winfield said, his face turning slightly scarlet.

Mulligan suddenly grinned, giving Daniel the impression of a shark.  “I wouldn’t worry about that, sir, they’re going to probably keep the movie PG-13 so most of the records from Santorini will stay in their respective boxes,” he said, smiling casually.

“Don’t make me talk to Miss Lawson about your behavior, you know she’ll take _my_ side,” Winfield snapped, bristling now.  Straightening, he said, “I think I’ve been away a little too long, I need to head back before Riley has a meltdown.”

Mulligan stepped back and gestured for him to head to the car.

“Mr. Craig, it was an honor to meet you.  Perhaps we will meet again under better circumstances,” Winfield said, glancing at Daniel before quietly excusing himself.

For a moment, no one said anything.  Then Mulligan sighed, and said, “Better to face his wrath sooner than later, I suppose.  Again, sorry about the mix-up, how about we pretend this never happened, hm?”

“I’m not going to lose Whishaw to an ‘accident’ anytime soon, am I?” Mendes asked warily.

Mulligan shook his head. “We, ah, reached a deal that was beneficial for everyone involved,” he said before nodding once to Daniel.  “Please excuse me, I have to get back to HQ before someone blows a fuse.”

“Was that the real-?” Daniel began, but Mulligan merely smiled once before leaving as well.

The two men watched as the woman hugged Winfield before opening the door for him, Mulligan running to catch up and get into the driver’s seat before his companion could.

“ ‘Pretend it never happened’, huh?  Now I’m wondering what happened with Whishaw for there to be a ‘deal that was beneficial for everyone involved’, and then pretend nothing happened,” Mendes remarked before turning back to Michael, who was nearby.  “Get in place, please, I want to get this started soon.  We’ll do the rehearsal while Whishaw is getting into costume.”

As Daniel headed over to where Naomie was speaking excitedly to Ben, he found himself wondering the very same thing.  


	2. Chapter 2

It was starting to turn into one of those days.

And it wasn’t 9:30 yet.

Right now, Ben Whishaw, careful to keep his face covered to avoid the media (and the fans), was standing in a nice little café he and Michael Devensky, a cameraman, had found while searching for something quick to eat en route to the sets at Heathrow Airport.  Today, they were filming scenes in which Daniel’s character tricked Ben’s onto a plane for a flight to Santorini.  Ben had worked with several specialists, but still had difficulty mimicking a proper reaction to being afraid of planes.  According to the script, he was supposed to make it look as though he was fighting Daniel each step of the way before somehow managing to explain the tech while trying not to panic en route.

Easier said than done.

“Too many options, this is why I prefer Starbucks over the smaller cafés,” Michael said, making a face.  “I always know what I want.  Not quite as packed this late in the morning either.”

“I just need something small to eat, we’re going to be late as it is,” Ben said, glancing at the café clock before moving to stand in line.

“I’ll talk to Mendes, traffic’s been a murder this morning,” Devensky said as he joined Ben, careful to stand in a way that would block Ben from the passersby on the street.  “Are you ready for today?”

“Almost, still haven’t figured out the appropriate reaction for aerophobia, and it’s not like I can ask the character himself,” Ben replied, resisting the urge to check the script.  The less he pulled it out now, the less risk there was in someone noticing it and recognizing him.  He still remembered the last time that had happened, and he’d been lucky that Daniel, (whom he thought had been filming in another country at the time) had shown up and pulled him out to safety.  Granted, the man disappeared shortly after, almost like a ghost, and then denied ever having been there the next time the two met at the beginning of filming for the next James Bond film.

Daniel was undoubtedly at the set now, getting ready for his role.  Which meant that until Ben and Michael could grab their breakfasts and escape, they were treading dangerously in what one could consider hostile territory.

He heard the tinkling of the entrance doorbell behind him as he continued studying the menu, moving up slowly as people ahead completed their orders and moved out of the way.  Someone was whispering as people moved behind Ben, “Oops, sorry… excuse me… have you seen… whoops, sorry ma’am… _you_ shut up, arsehole…ow!  Ow, ow, okay, sorry, sorry…”

A large hand landed on Ben’s shoulder, startling the younger man into turning around.  “I’m sorry, can I-” he began when he spotted the larger man that had evidently been crawling his way up the queue looking for someone.

“Sir!” the man said, relief obvious in his voice as he did a quick once-over of Ben.  “Oh, thank God I found you!  The director wants to see you in twenty minutes about yesterday’s work,” he said cheerfully, glancing warily at Devensky as though he’d just noticed the other man.  “Who’s he?”

Ben frowned.  “You don’t recognize him?  He works with us,” he said, wondering who was this person that Mendes sent to find him.

The stranger shrugged.  “All you lab rats look the same to me, how can you expect me to take the time to differentiate between everyone?” he asked, glancing at the menu.  “Are you ordering right now?”

“Yes.  Who are you?” Ben asked right as the other man’s phone trilled.

“One moment.”  The man pulled his phone out, hit the green phone button, and then remained silent as he listened to someone on the other end.  “Yes sir, I just found him… understood, sir.”  Then he promptly hung up and said, “Apparently, you’re needed in the office right now, Alec has run into a bit of a tight spot.”  Nodding to Devensky, he said, “I’ll come back and get your drinks, it’s a bit of an emergency back at headquarters and all hands are needed.”

Ben tried again.  “There’s been a bit of confusion, I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said as the man ushered them out of the café.  He tried to struggle against the man’s grip, but the man was persistent, leading them to a black, ominous-looking car that had deactivated lights both on top and inside the windshield.  Ben tried for one last token of resistance, digging his heels into the pavement, but found that people were starting to stare and one even muttered, “ _Again?_ ”

It didn’t help that once Ben and Devensky were stuffed into the car, the man got into the driver’s seat and put in a hands-free device that was too small to be Bluetooth tech but clearly served a similar purpose.  The _click_ of locking doors echoed within the small interior.

Devensky leaned over and whispered, “Are we getting _kidnapped?_ ”

Ben shrugged, working to remain calm.  “Maybe he’s extra security that Mendes hired?” he suggested, although he was beginning to doubt that particular theory already: the driver was turning off the Bluetooth, ignoring the indignant squawking on the other end.

“R’s got the director handled so that you can help double-oh six,” he said, tossing the device carelessly into the glove box; Ben may not be the tech expert he portrayed in _Skyfall_ , but the _clunk_ as the device landed in the interior of the glove box still made him wince.

“Sir,” he began carefully.  “I believe there’s been some kind of mista-”

“Yeah, James sounded cranky about not getting his mocha or whatever the hell he ingests after missions,” the man said, frowning as the car pulled up to the sickeningly familiar SIS headquarters.  “I don’t know how the _hell_ he does it, if I had one of those sugar bombs, I’d gain weight almost right away.  Tess has that irritating ability too, to stay slim no matter what she eats…”

“Sir,” Devensky interrupted as the car pulled up to a security checkpoint.  “We’re not-”

“Brought Q and the tech back, M wants them in Q-Branch now, we’ve got a bit of a situation that needs taking care of,” the man said to the security officer, who glanced in the backseat at the two men.

“Right then, go on ahead,” he said, stepping back to let the car through.

That was when it hit Ben.  While some things still didn’t make sense (were the Bond films based on fact or not?), the driver and the security officer both thought he was someone who evidently could be none other than the MI6 Quartermaster, when in reality, Ben had _no idea_ how to handle the apparent emergency.

But, as an actor, he could at least _pretend_ he knew what he was doing, and do it long enough to get a form of rescue.  He mentally recalled what he could of the script for the next Bond film as well as _Skyfall_.  It would help, he supposed, if he were lucky to get a second-in-command that could aid the unlucky 006; he didn’t want to compromise the agent any further just because of a mix-up.  He glanced Devensky and mouthed, ‘ _Stay calm’_ , hoping that Devensky would let him take the lead.

He took a deep breath as the driver got out and stepped around to open his door.

_Show time._

~*~

“Entertain me.”

If looks could kill, James Bond, Agent 007 of Her Majesty’s Secret Service, knew he would be dead within seconds of the scathing glare he received from his colleague, Agent 009.  Instead of shooting him (or worse, siccing 002 on him), she merely pushed him away with a finger to the chest.  “Thomas just brought Q back. Go bother him,” she snapped before turning back to the tech that had been helping her.

“Maybe you forgot the part where he threatened to throw me out of Q-Branch the next time I bothered him while he was walking an agent through a sticky spot,” James said, moving around the table so that they were facing each other again.

009 raised an eyebrow.  “That was you?  In that case, I _really_ think you should go bother him right now,” she said as her technician gingerly moved away from the two of them.  “Hey, where do you think you’re going?  We’re not done here.”

“Sorry,” the technician apologized, inching forward again.  “I just didn’t want to get caught up in a fight that had no foundation.”

Both agents turned to face him.  “Clarification, please?” 009 asked finally.

The technician shrugged.  “R’s been handling double-oh six all morning, and M is still in a meeting with the Department of Defense representatives.  So if they’re busy, what’s Q doing?  I mean, we managed to get in a couple rounds of Texas Hold ‘Em before R caught us, and granted, Q came in late today but he’s not really working at the moment… unless there’s a project he hasn’t told any of us about yet,” he said as he opened the silver case with 009’s kit in it.  

009 smirked at James.  “Well, then, entertain yourself with Q at your leisure, I certainly don’t have to see him for a while,” she said, grinning.

The technician looked unhappy as James began to leave. “I might have to, try to keep whatever you’re going to do under an hour… _please_ ,” he said, ignoring 009’s shake of the head and when she mouthed _‘You wish’_.

James merely offered a lazy salute as he walked away, much to the technician’s chagrin.

Q’s office, surprisingly, was locked.  Generally, this meant he was working at the moment and didn’t want to be disturbed, but James distinctly recalled his lover making him promise to show up at some point, just to ease Q’s stress if anything else.

Shrugging, he pulled out the key (a copy of the one he pilfered from Q’s bag once, Q never called him out on it), unlocked the door, typed in the four-digit combination and then slipped inside as the door swung noiselessly in.

Q was indeed busy; he and a technician James didn’t recognize (which bothered him a bit, he thought he’d had all their faces memorized by now) were hunched over a computer screen that James couldn’t see.  While Q was seated, the technician was (uncomfortably) close to the quartermaster’s ear, making James’ hand twitch for the missing holster at his side.  Clearing his throat loudly enough to catch their attention, he stepped back as the technician jumped away as though burned.

Like they were trying to hide something.

“I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” James said lightly, easily covering up his suspicions (and slight irritation). 

“Of course not, double-oh seven,” Q said irritably, placing his face into his hands as the technician looked between the two of them in absolute _fear_.  “What do you want?”

“Wait, I needed an excuse to be up here?” James asked, smirking at the technician, who was starting to look a little more confused as the conversation progressed.  “Well, R needs coffee so that he doesn’t go to ground while assisting Alec in Bermuda, and we don’t want to disturb the quartermaster about that, don’t we?” he asked, pointedly raising an eyebrow at the other man.

The technician, when he realized that James was staring at him, nodded quickly and awkwardly shuffled out of the room.  Or at least he tried to; he paused when he saw that James was standing in the middle of the doorway.  James didn’t move for a few seconds before shifting aside (especially before the one-minute mark was up and Q yelled at him for ‘unnecessarily terrorizing the staff’ again). 

James watched the other man go before shaking his head and shutting the door behind him.  “I don’t know where you find half of these kids, they get more and more skittish every year,” he said, moving to the other side of the room to stand behind Q. Placing his hands on the quartermaster’s shoulders, he rubbed them soothingly as he read the scathing email from M over Q’s shoulder, the email once again about the meeting schedule; M and Q had been battling for the last week about the budget meeting, and Q was steadily losing.  “Did you do something that I need to cover up?” he asked after a moment, locating yet another knot in the other man’s shoulders.

Q sniffed.  “What makes you think that?”

“You are extremely tense.  And I know for a fact that you shouldn’t be because we did quite a bit of relaxing this morning,” James said, digging his fingers deeper into the other man’s shoulders as he located more knots.  He leaned down to Q’s ear and whispered in a low voice, “Although I wouldn’t be opposed to more ‘relaxing’ if you’re not too busy right now.”  Smiling at Q’s shiver, he leaned in to nose Q’s nape.

And then paused.

The smell of the shampoo was completely wrong.  James would have known if his lover had switched shampoos that morning, they’d showered together given it was one of those rare days that the two were home at the same time.

‘Q’ seemed to catch on the second James did; he stiffened as James’ hand moved to rest against his neck.  One movement would be all James needed to wrap his fingers around the imposter’s throat and strangle him.  “Is there any way that ends with me walking out of this?” the imposter asked.

 _No_.  “Perhaps,” James said, knowing that he couldn’t let the man go now that he knew what Q meant to James.  James would be _damned_ if he let another lover die due to his carelessness.  “If you can tell me how you got _this far_ into MI6 unnoticed, and where the other man is, then I might think about sparing your life.”

“I actually don’t know where the other man is, but given what happened to me, I suspect he’s on the set for the next film,” the man said carefully, moving his hands away from the computer but keeping them on the table where James could see them.  “As for how I got in, a man brought me in, someone named ‘Thomas’.”

 _008_.  James was going to kill the man later.  Leaning forward, he pressed the panic button that he knew was underneath Q’s desk, well aware that the nearest 00 agents—009 and _maybe_ 008—would receive text alerts as would M and Moneypenny.  “Who the bloody hell are you?” he asked, wondering how the hell 008 could make such a _stupid_ mistake.

The man swallowed.  “Benjamin Whishaw, sir.  The man that you kicked out earlier was a camera man,” he said, carefully regulating his breathing as though to remain in control. 

James frowned, but his grip didn’t falter.  He’d run into Whishaw once, and had almost left the actor to his fate with the media before Q first tried to bribe him and then guilt-tripped him into helping the other man out (despite the fact that James had even been on a mission at the time).  He hadn’t seen the kid since, but it clearly said something about his acting ability if he got this far into MI6 without someone noticing (other than the technicians who were used to their boss’s eccentric behavior anyway).

“James?”

“Just kick the door in,” he shouted over his shoulder, keeping one hand on Whishaw’s shoulder and the other around the man’s neck.  009, he knew, was something of a movie expert since she somehow made time to watch at least one film every other week.  He hoped she would confirm Whishaw’s story.

There was a _crack_ , and then 008 kicked the door open.  Both 00 agents had their weapons drawn, and 009 drew up short when she stared at the two of them there.  “James, what the _hell_ is wrong with you?” she demanded as 008 paused as though realizing the hostage situation.

“Does that look like Q to you?” James growled, turning the chair around to make the man face the two of them.

The two others were silent for a moment, and then 008 silently shut the door behind him.  “I thought he did,” he finally said, a twinge of anxiety in his voice.

009 hesitated, and then knelt to be at eye level with the other man.  “Hey, I’m the nice one out of the bunch here,” she said, setting her gun down on the floor.  “And you are…?”

“Benjamin Whishaw, I was at a café when he,” the man said, nodding to 008, “pulled me out along with the camera man, I was just getting something to eat before going to the set.”

009 frowned, and then shook her head, standing up again.  “Well, that text that Q sent to me just now makes more sense than it did five minutes ago,” she said, brow furrowing as she pulled her phone out again.  “James, don’t you have your phone?”

“No, Q was going to replace it today.  A grizzly bear took it while I was still in Vancouver,” James said, glancing down at the other man in Q’s chair. 

009 nodded.  Then she smacked 008 in the back of the head and hissed, “You _moron_!”

“They look the same!  With the scruffiness, the caffeine addiction…”

“I’m sorry to cut in, but what is going on?” Whishaw asked, choosing a quiet moment to cut in.  “And how did he know it was me, I didn’t think I said something…”

“He and the quartermaster are involved.  As in, the _Skyfall_ fanfiction isn’t that far off the mark, not that the fans know that,” 008 said, and James nearly wanted to hit him for bringing _that_ up; it had taken _ages_ to block all fanfiction websites from any computer in MI6, and had been the bane of Q’s existence for a while.  Especially given that the two of them actually had been involved _before_ Skyfall; James had met the quartermaster when the latter still bore the ‘R’ designation and proved to be a more than competent verbal sparring companion.  The art gallery meeting _had_ happened, but just not exactly the way people saw it happen on the big screen.  Everything after that though, did happen the way the mission had played out.

Whishaw merely nodded as though in careful understanding.  “So, um, is there a way I can walk out of this and not be hunted down later?” he asked carefully.

009 raised an eyebrow, and James could just see the wheels turning in her head.  “As much as I hate gag orders,” she said finally, “we might have to use it this time.  We can’t afford to lose such a valuable employee just because someone talked…”

“How’s this?  James doesn’t kill Whishaw now, Whishaw doesn’t talk or bring any charges against him, Tess, you save me from Q’s wrath, and I’ll treat you to an all-expenses-paid vacation to France for two, and no one brings this to M. We’ll just tell him it was an equipment malfunction, he bought the excuse last week so there’s a chance it’ll work again,” 008 suggested, looking hopeful. 

For a moment, the three 00 agents looked at Whishaw as though trying to decide if this was the best way to deal with him.

James was quiet, turning over the deal in his head as 009 finally nodded in agreement.  He knew he could always rectify any ‘leaks’ should the case come to it, and besides, Q was out there, probably scared out of his wits since they were doing the airplane scenes.  Reluctantly, he let Whishaw go, the other man climbing out of the chair as soon as he was free.  “Get that other rat out of here while you’re at it,” he said, settling down in Q’s chair to guard it. 

009 nodded and gestured for Whishaw to follow him. “You’re the actor in those Bond films, right?” she asked, her eagerness evident in her tone.  “If you have any questions about Q’s mannerisms, I could try and help you out,” she offered as the actor left, a nervous 008 on his heels.

James didn’t hear Whishaw’s reply since the door closed behind him, leaving James in the silent office.  Instead, he leaned back in the chair, well aware that he had to take care of M and Moneypenny now.  Best to keep it all hush-hush to avoid the lecture later.

Besides, he was undoubtedly going to hear it from Q later.  Might as well as save time and get one instead of two.


	3. Chapter 3

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

Q looked up from where he’d been working at the café table, smiled, and then gestured to the empty seat across from him.  It had been a week since the switching incident, and it had been one of the smoothest weeks he’d ever had in a while.  “Of course not,” he said, grinning as the other pulled his coat off and draped it over the back of his chair.  Closing the laptop lid, Q moved it off the small table to give the other man room as he sat down with his own tea.  “How have things been for you?” he asked, still grinning.

Ben Whishaw shrugged as he leaned back, sipping his tea.  “Well, you know, the usual.  Filming, traveling, getting kidnapped by strange security guards…”

“You too?  Well, except for the filming and traveling part.   For me, it’s more of working odd hours, keeping a trained killer happy, and getting manhandled by strange security guards,” Q said, shrugging nonchalantly as he tapped his computer for emphasis.

“Still don’t like flying?”

“No, still can’t stand it.”

The two men were quiet for a moment, and then Q cracked first, covering his eyes as he began to laugh.  Ben grinned, shaking his head at the shared memory.  “I don’t know who it was that thought the whole getting-mixed-up-with-the-other thing would stop after we left home, but as it turned out, we were _wrong_ ,” he said, shaking his head as he grinned.

“The one time we’re not even trying, and it works,” Q said, rubbing his temples.  “I hope Mendes wasn’t angry with you when you got back to the set,” he said, grimacing at the memory of being on the Heathrow tarmac.  “I may have been… less than accommodating the entire time Miss Banks was dragging me to Heathrow.  And a little bit… reluctant to cooperate.”

Ben shook his head.  “Once Thomas explained everything, Mendes calmed down,” he said.  “The woman, Miss Lawson, was very helpful though, with getting me back in one piece.  For a few minutes, I seriously thought Bond was going to kill me when he found me in your office.”

Q nodded.  “We talked about that, he’ll leave you alone from here on out.  Actually, all three of them will, they were _very_ keen on keeping the incident from our boss,” he said, recalling the discovery of the opportunity that had landed in his lap since 007, 008 and 009 were all intent on keeping M from discovering about the security breach since full blame would undoubtedly fall on them, and 008 was already in hot water with Medical.  They were actually determined enough to keep it a secret that Eve was allowed to ask for a few bribes, and for Q to get his budget meeting along with a few other perks.

“You have them eating out of your hand, don’t you?”

Q shrugged.  “It would have been a shame to let such a rare opportunity go to waste,” he said before taking another sip of tea.  “Usually they’re running circles around me, but it’s nice to have them stop every now and then.”

Ben shook his head.  “I’m beginning to think our neighbor’s fear of you having evil tendencies wasn’t as ungrounded as we thought,” he said, smiling.

“Mm.  James mentioned something along the lines of that the other day, and the minions tell nothing but lies,” Q said grinning as he took a sip of tea.  He nodded towards Ben and said, “I hear that congratulations are in order?  Even if I am a year late?”

Ben nodded, a smile crossing his face at the thought of his partner.  “Thank you.  It was a nice ceremony; we’d decided to get married in Sydney.  Mark and I decided to go for a private ceremony.  Mum obviously had her own ideas for it, but I may or may not have told her about it _after_ we made the plans and finalized everything,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

Q winced, remembering the woman in question.  “I cannot see any scenario in which that ended well,” he said, sipping his tea.

“It didn’t, and she made sure we knew it,” Ben said, raising an eyebrow at his childhood friend.  “Speaking of partners, am I to expect a happy announcement by the end of the year?” he asked, setting the teacup down.

Q shook his head.  He glanced around before leaning forward as he pulled a tablet out from his bag, Ben leaning forward as well.  “Even if James wanted that level of commitment, which I can assure you he doesn’t, we wouldn’t be able to because of the security risks involved,” he said in a low voice, using his tablet to block his and Ben’s face from the security camera in the nearby corner of the café.

“Are you absolutely sure he doesn’t?” Ben asked quietly.

Q nodded.  “Just as _Skyfall_ was, _Casino Royale_ was based off actual mission files, I checked once I was granted the clearance,” he said, lowering the tablet and setting it aside.

Ben nodded, understanding the implication full well.  “That answers that question, both of them actually.  After you and I returned to our proper places, Naomie got into a disagreement with Daniel over whether _Skyfall_ actually happened or not, and Mendes said that we were not permitted to track any MI6 personnel down for confirmation,” he said, leaning back in his chair.  

“Just as well, it would have most likely triggered the target to either call in reinforcements or if it were an agent, then he or she would have most likely taken it upon themselves to find out what it was that you wanted,” Q said, nodding in agreement.  He checked his watch and said, “I think there’s a bet going around the branch even to see how long it takes for someone to come investigating why we’re talking in an out of the way location.”

Ben shook his head.  “And here I thought it was hard to dodge the media,” he replied.  “But your branch, they’re forever checking on you, aren’t they?”

“And if it’s not them, it’s James.  Although, he shouldn’t be causing trouble, he said he had to drive out to Cardiff today and is going to be gone all day,” he said, remembering the note he’d found taped to the refrigerator when he got up that morning to make breakfast.  While he was sad that James was going to be gone (when they _both_ had a day off of all times, Q had been planning to surprise him with that news), he was also glad to see Ben again after so many years since they’d both left for university.  “The branch at least has a better gauge of whether I’m in trouble or not, if James were here, he’d drag me out by the collar just because I’m sitting in front of the bloody window.”

Ben chuckled.  “I wouldn’t count him out just yet on the full time commitment thing just yet, it seems like he’s put a lot of effort already into keeping you safe and happy,” he said, giving his friend a knowing look.

Q nodded.  “I’m not arguing that, it’s just-”

_Beep!_

“Oh, sorry.  Please excuse me,” Q said, pulling his mobile out.  “Hello…what is it?” He leaned back in his chair, frowning as he listened to the other person before he said, “I see, what did he do now?”  He lowered the mobile after a few moments and whispered, “What parts of the film are being done today?”

“Car chase in Cardiff, Daniel versus two villains.  Why?” Ben asked, frowning as Q closed his eyes, muttering something about ‘that _moron_ ’.  

“All right, thank you, I’ll deal with it,” he said into the phone before hanging up. “That was my second-in-command.  Apparently James is enjoying himself as Daniel’s stunt double in Cardiff,” he said, gulping the rest of the tea down before reaching for the computer to stuff it into his bag.  “I should have known, when he started behaving himself, that something like this was going to happen,” he muttered as he gathered the rest of his things, shoving them haphazardly into his bag while throwing his coat over his arm.

Ben shook his head as he got up as well, finishing his tea.  “I’ll expect the announcement in the next twelve months,” he said as he gathered his things.  “Would you like a ride to Cardiff?  They don’t need me today, but I still know where they are,” he offered.

Q nodded.  “Maybe you can tell me more about what you’ve been up to since we last saw each other, back in what, 2000?” he asked as the two of them left the café and headed towards the nearby car. 

“2005, it was that one Christmas that we agreed never happened because of the kitchen explosion,” Ben said as he pulled up his hood to avoid being seen by the few girls walking past them.  “We were on cleaning duty, not on cooking duty.”

“Mum never saw the switch on the job chart, and I got to practice remotely hacking and editing Microsoft documents,” Q agreed as Ben unlocked the car, the two men getting into their respective sides.  “Nope, none that ever happened.”

~*~

James was having _fun_.

It was an exhilarating experience, participating in a car chase that he knew wouldn’t end in the fiery wreck as it did when he actually did the mission.  The weapons were fake, since they were only props; he had the security of knowing that this wasn’t an actual trap, so he could just bloody _enjoy_ racing a car through Cardiff, adding his own spin to tricks as the cameras followed him.

“ _Are you sure we can’t nick the car after?  I know Q could tweak the engine to make it go faster,”_ Alec Trevelyan remarked over the small radio in James’ ear.  It was Q-Branch tech that Alec had conveniently ‘lost’ when reporting in after his return from overseas. 

“We’d have to admit to having stole it in the first place,” James countered as he brought the car to a smooth stop near the same place he’d started.

“ _Pfft, we can just say that we lifted it from a mission, I did just get back.  I could always say that I’d had it sent over, he’d buy it,”_ Alec pointed out.  “ _We bring back stuff all the time.”_

“Yeah… he still hasn’t forgiven us for bringing the Shih Tzu last year.”

“ _How the fuck were we supposed to know that it was the Italian president’s pet?  The bloody target had it, not the president,_ ” Alec complained as James got out of the car, nodding to one of the crew members to let them know that he was out of the way so that they could fix up the few dings on it for the next take.

“ _You know, I still can’t believe you got Q mixed up with Whishaw.  Tess made me watch every bloody episode of ‘The Hollow Crown’ and then ‘Cloud Atlas’ and ‘Bright Star’ with her a few months ago just because she loves Whishaw and that was the one time Will wasn’t home.”_

“Did you see _Skyfall?_   The resemblance is a bit uncanny,” James said, glancing warily around even though he knew the actor in question was not present.

A snort on the other end.  “ _Snuck into the premiere.  You were out of the country and I was bored.  Still haven’t figured out how M got you to agree to doing those films at all.”_

“She didn’t.  I found out the same way everyone else did: the teasers,” James muttered back, accepting the water bottle from a nearby crewmember.

He knew Alec was miffed at having missed 008’s blunder with Q and Whishaw, but James had pointed out that the film crews would be in England for a while yet, and they have a little fun with that.  James first had to make sure he was back in Q’s good books (the other man had gotten _slightly_ jealous when he found out exactly how James caught the ruse, and by ‘slightly’, he meant that Q had sulked until James sufficiently made it up to him), and then made up a story about having to be in Cardiff for the day.  He’d even bribed Moneypenny to help with the ruse, so he and Alec had gone to check out what the crews were up to for the day.  They’d both been plotting the easiest way to snatch the rather lovely Aston Martin that was being used for the chase when they heard that Daniel Craig’s stunt double had taken ill.  James was moving to volunteer before Alec could push him to it.

Patience was a key component to his work as a secret agent, and so long as he did he was told, James knew he was in the clear for quietly snatching the car later.  The two agents were planning to do it later that night, after filming had been wrapped up for the day.  Until then, he had to deal with Mendes.

“ _All right James, move back to place.  Last run with the chase, so make it a good one,”_ Alec said, and James could hear the other shifting in place, as though fidgeting.  “ _And we’ve got the clock against us, Moneypenny texted to say that she couldn’t keep R from finding us out here, so it’s really a matter of time before Q catches on._ ”

 _Shit._   “How did he find us?” James demanded under his breath, getting out of the car long enough to let the crew step forward and fix the few nicks that occurred in the last run.  James had checked the script earlier, and found that the car wasn’t going to blow up until the next day, when they were filming another chase through Cardiff.  Deadline in hand, he’d already started mapping out an escape route.

_“Apparently, R became concerned when he found out that we asked for leave for the week.  Then he talked to O’Reilly about trackers, and the rest as they say is history.”_

James cursed O’Reilly under his breath, avoiding eye contact with the other cast members waiting to start again.  The chief of Medical must have followed through on his threat to tag James, Alec, or the two of them with special, sub-dermal trackers in places that the enemy (and the 00 agents) wouldn’t think to look.  As far as James knew, they’d both had surgeries that left them under anesthesia at some point in the last six months.  “How long ago was this?” he muttered under his breath as one of the crew signaled him to signify that he was ready. 

He noted that an unfamiliar car had just pulled up to the set right as Alec said, “ _That was four hours ago, Eve couldn’t tell me sooner since she was in meetings all day.  There’s no telling what could happen next… although I suspect we’re about to find out_.”

“Let’s hope not,” James muttered back as he passed back the water bottle to the crewmember waiting nearby.

He was just reaching for the car handle when a sickening familiar voice yelled, _“James!  Don’t you dare touch that car!”_

James froze, as did the surrounding crew and cast, but then straightened when he spotted Q still clambering out of the passenger side.  For a moment, the two made eye contact, Q disheveled and with a hand in the air as though to reach out and literally stop James as the latter remained still with the hand outstretched to the handle.

 _“Touch it,”_ Alec whispered.

Very deliberately, making sure that Q could see it, James leaned onto the Aston Martin so that all five fingertips touched the surface.

Alec snickered while James fought back a grin as Q placed his face into his hands, the driver door opening and _Whishaw_ of all people climbing out to intercept Mendes, who had been talking with Craig and Harris nearby.  Alec cursed under his breath, muttering, “ _Fucking hell, they do look alike.”_ Then James wandered over to where Q was bracing himself against the open car door for support.  He ignored the suspicious look from Craig as he leaned down and gently bumped foreheads with Q… or at least tried to, the other’s hands spanned his face.  “C’mon Q, it was all in good fun,” he said carefully, well aware that the quartermaster could be tetchy right now.  “I wasn’t going to blow anything up.”

“I know, because I asked you not to touch the bloody car,” Q said, looking up at him with narrowed eyes.  He made a face when James tapped him on the nose, and then said, “James, if you’re planning to brush my ire away _that_ way, we are _not_ doing that here.”

“There’s a hotel nearby, I checked…”

“ _No,_ not when we can drive back home.  Speaking of which, how did you even _get_ here?” Q asked, frowning.

 _Shit_.  “Bus,” James said promptly, ignoring Alec’s coughs on the other end.

Q raised an eyebrow, but then pursed his lips as though thinking.  Then he reached up for James’ ear and pulled the earpiece out, holding the microphone to his mouth as he said, “Double-oh six, you have five minutes to bring the car around and I might think about forgetting this ever happened.”

James grinned as he took back the earpiece.  “What’s it going to take to help you _not_ tell M that we once again broke another of his rules?” he asked, grin widening as Q belatedly realized that the earpiece was actually Q-Branch tech and tried to snatch it back.  Moving the earpiece out of reach with one hand and holding Q back with the other, James suggested, “How about both earpieces, and M doesn’t find out?”

Q raised an eyebrow.  “What’s in it for me?” he asked coolly as Alec pulled up in the borrowed MI6 company car.

“You get your tech back, and M doesn’t find out that _you_ were chatting with Whishaw.  Especially after he said no interactions with the cast.  _And_ he doesn’t find out it was _your_ people who edited the script,” Alec said, smoothly getting out of the car as James gently herded Q towards the car.

Q sputtered before snapping, “Ben and I knew each other _before_ I even met _you!”_

“Wait, what?” James said, stopping Q so that he could face the other man.

“We knew each other as children,” Whishaw said, James turning to face him as he spoke.  “This sort of mix-up happened frequently when we were younger, it wasn’t until last week that we saw each other again for the first time in years.”

“Drove our mothers crazy.  They couldn’t tell us apart until I had to get glasses,” Q added, making James blink and step back so he could see the two of them.

There was a momentary silence, and then Alec spoke first, saying, “Bloody hell Q, we already knew you were evil, you didn’t have get a twin to prove it.”

“We’re not twins, he’s a little taller than me,” Q said as Ben nodded.  “And unfortunately, I have to take your stuntman back to London, he’ll be missed dearly if his paperwork is not filled out in a timely fashion” he said, turning to focus on Mendes.  Gesturing for Alec and James to get into the car already, he added, “I personally assure you, Mr. Mendes, that these two will stay out of your movie from here on out.”

“Who the hell are you anyway?” Craig asked, staring at James as the latter opened the passenger door.

James couldn’t resist.

He pulled out a pair of sunglasses from the glove box, met Craig’s gaze and said, “Bond, James Bond,” before putting the sunglasses on and sliding into the car, shutting the door after.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: James Bond and all related media belong to Ian Fleming. As stated before, I took my best shot when it came to writing the real individuals mentioned in this work.
> 
> THANK YOU for all your support. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I am taking my best shot at writing the real people... this was written for fun and in a 'what if?' scenario and no harm is intended.


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